After the Flash: Phantom
by Strigon111
Summary: Based off my roleplay character that I've been using for a really long time. Everyone has their own opinion. Find it nice, find it bad, so be it. PS: This story would cause quite a lot of...insult towards Call of Duty fanboys. If you dislike COD fanboys, you may like this. If you are a COD fanboy...well, you may rage out. Hue. Rated T for violence.


Based off my roleplay character that I've been using for a really long time. Everyone has their own opinion. Find it nice, find it bad, so be it.

PS: This story would cause quite a lot of...insult towards Call of Duty fanboys. If you dislike COD fanboys, you may like this. If you are a COD fanboy...well, you may rage out. Hue.

~~~DATABASE INITIALIZING~~~

Profile Loading

Name: Toscha Mijasik

Age: 23

Affiliations: Phantom Project; United States Civilian Defense Front

Weapons: Tactical Kerambit, various suppressed pistols, various sniper rifles

Last seen location: East of Crane Town

Threat level: Condition Zero

~~~DATABASE CLOSING~~~

~~~Page 64 of Toscha Mijasik's journal~~~

I have just been given a new assignment. Track down three people calling themselves "The Ghosts". Last person that saw them made a call to us. Several hours later, we found his body in an alleyway, cuts on his wrists and neck. Definitely not a suicide.

~~~Page 74 of Toscha Mijasik's journal~~~

Day 3. I've been in this tree for nearly three days now. I'm glad to have brought some food along. Not particularly divine, but enough to keep me going while I'm on my mission. I have been keeping a close eye on Fort Outlook. No one has gone in, no one has gone out. I was starting to think my informant was wrong when I heard shuffling beneath me. I looked down, and saw someone with brown hair that nearly covered his forehead. He wore black military fatigues, and had a backpack slung over his right shoulder. He leaned against the tree, apparently at the end of his strength. I noticed several of the tree's fruits hanging near me. I grabbed one, and cut it open with my kerambit. The outside looked normal, but the inside was a light grey. It was steeped full of radiation. I glanced down at the passerby, who was still in his spot. I reached over and plucked another fruit. I plucked another, and another. I dropped them all simultaneously, before slipping to another side of the tree. I peered below at the passerby, who stared at the fruit quizzically. He looked up, and his eyes passed by my hiding place harmlessly. I was masked by a cluster of leaves. The passerby picked up one fruit and took a tentative bite. He saw the grey inside, and dropped the fruit. He spat out what was in his mouth, but it was too late. The juices already slipped down his throat. He began to gag, and fell to his knees. He fell over, convulsing on the ground.

In my line of work, we have to kill without hesitation. Time is of the essence. I am skilled in this. But I take no pleasure in it.

The passerby stopped shaking, and his body lay on its side, still curled up. I lowered myself from the tree, turned his body face-up, slid his eyes shut, and dug a pit for him in the sand. I dragged the body in, and began shoveling the sand back in. When that was done, I retook my position in the tree, watching Fort Outlook for what seemed like an eternity.

~~~Page 77 of Toscha Mijasik's journal~~~

Day 4. I have been watching Fort Outlook for 96 hours. My food supplies were extremely low. I had two apples, 2 cans of beef stew and a bottle of water. If anyone was in Fort Outlook, they would have years of food supplies. I decided that I could not wait any longer. I climbed down the tree, keeping a watchful eye on the windows at Fort Outlook. I began jogging towards the entrance. I drew my suppressed M1911, and crept inside. A small one-man VTOL was on a landing pad to the right. A small tent was on the left. Crates were here and there. As I approached the doorway to the Fort's main building, a foul smell pervaded my nose. I recognized it immediately. Rotting flesh. I peeked inside, and saw two bodies lying at opposite ends of the room. I kept my gun pointed towards the general direction of the two doors as I checked the nearest body. I turned it over, and saw a gash on the neck where blood had seeped out from. I checked the next body and saw the same. Ghosts. This was their method of death after interrogation. Let the victim watch his own life pour out.

I moved upstairs, and saw another body. More and more bodies, with the same cause of death. A cut to the throat. Whatever I sought was not here. Not anymore at least. I grabbed my radio and switched to the right frequency.

"They aren't at Outlook. I'm inside and all I see are bodies. The Ghosts did this." I said.

"Alright. Get back to the city. We've had reports of a Ghost sighting in there." Marcus said.

"Wilco." I replied.

~~~Page 81 of Toscha Mijasik's journal~~~

I always thought that thanks to my experience, a death would never haunt me. But just mere minutes after it, I had the strangest feeling that the person had never left me.

I was passing by the industrial area, on my way towards Crane Town. I noticed a warehouse door was left ajar. Thinking it most suspicious, I went to investigate. I stole inside, and I heard whispering above me. I froze, and shot a glance upward. As soon as I did, the whispering stopped. I took a few more steps forward, and heard a tap behind me. I turned around, and saw a man about the same age as me. He was blocking the door.

"Hello..." I said.

"Hello." He replied.

"Who are you? And what are you doing here?" I asked, most curious.

"Can I come with you?" He asked.

"I don't think so. You need to take care of your kid there." I gestured towards the young girl standing beside him, who materialized as quickly as he did.

"She can do anything on her own." He bargained.

"Anything? I don't think she would survive out there for long. This isn't a fairy tale, in case you didn't know." I said cautiously. This looked worse than mysterious.

Then, the man pulled out a pistol, spun, and shot the girl three times in the chest.

"Wha-NOO!" I cried.

The man's response was laughter. Insane laughter.

I brought my pistol up, and fired two quick shots into the man's head. The man's body fell to the ground beside the girl. I crouched beside the bodies, and wondered if it was all real or fake. It seemed real enough. Either way, I wanted no more in that. I took out a molotov which I had fashioned a day earlier, and tossed it to the bodies as I exited the warehouse.

I turned to face the warehouse as it was swallowed by the flames.

"Out, out, brief candle. Life is but a walking shadow. A poor player that struts and frets his hour upon the stage. And then is heard no more. It is a tale, full of sound and fury, told by a madman, signifying...nothing." I said the line which I had read from a book and which had remained in my brain.

~~~Page 82 of Toscha Mijasik's journal~~~

I pushed all thoughts of the man and the girl out of my head. I had just received a call from Marcus. A Ghost was seen at Crane Town. I could only hope this was a proper lead. I rushed to Crane Town, hoping to secure the lead before it dissipated. I came to a stop in front of Crane Town. The massive crane stood tall and proud, towering over the makeshift village.

"Marcus, where is he?" I radioed.

"Up on the crane. I think the caller said he was setting a beacon of some sort."

"Alright. I'll radio back when I'm finished." I said.

My boots crunched on the cold ground as I entered Crane Town. The rusty, dilapidated shacks could hold any threat. I pushed open a door, expecting to see a room full of Ghosts. Nothing. Another shack. Nothing again. I guessed that the Ghost was either still on the crane, or left. Either way, I had to check every square inch. I rested my hands on the cold ladder. Rung by rung, I climbed up. I reached the cabin platform. A light drizzle began to form along with some haze. If the Ghost was up there, the weather would mask my approach. I hoped.

I climbed up the smaller ladder onto the jib. Amongst the mist and fog, I saw a figure standing at the hook point. Was this the Ghost? My fingers closed around the handle of my kerambit. I slid it out of the sheathe, and gave it a spin. With each rotation, life rushed back into me. Life that the encounter with the strange man and girl sucked out. I felt like a Phantom again. The case-hardened blade glistened in the moonlight as I crept to the figure. Then, with inhuman speed, it spun round, a skull painted on the mask that he wore. The signature of the Ghosts.

The speed he moved caught me off guard. I realized he had in his hands a flip knife. He lunged forward, and slashed twice at me. I looked down, and saw the tip of my tie fly off into the wind. His slashes landed a centimeter short, and only severed my tie. But I would not be taken by surprise again. He lost the element of it. He charged at me, switching his grip on his knife to a backhand. He brought his arm down. I parried twice. I sidestepped to the left, and delivered a kick to his right leg. I launched a feint towards his abdomen, which he had left unguarded. His arms raised to block my attack, only to realize that it was a trick. I brought my blade to his left thigh, and rammed the talon tip into it. I pulled it home, and made a two inch gash that spewed blood. The Ghost's eyes widened in shock and horror. I seized this opportunity, and did the same to his right leg.

The Ghost swung his knife forward in a last ditch maneuver. I pushed my back against his chest, slamming the air out of him. His knife arm sailed harmlessly above me. I swung my knife arm backwards, ramming the blade into his stomach. I pulled out of the struggle to take a moment to see the damage I had done. The Ghost's hands went to his belly, where a large wound formed. I gave him no honor. I dashed to the left, and did an uppercut with my right that went to the left. The blade was the one that struck him. And it struck him in the neck. Cutting clean through his brachiocephalic artery.

The Ghost stumbled back, teetering over the edge. Before he fell, I rushed forward, and grabbed his collar.

"The Phantoms send their regards." I whisper into his ears. His eyes widened larger at the sentence. His hands grappled at me, but what attempt he made to kill me was futile. I shoved my blade into his neck, the talon tip curving around his cervical spine. I gave it a strong tug, and a burst of blood spluttered onto my face. I let go of his collar, and let his body fall off the crane.

I quickly descended the crane, shoving my kerambit into its sheathe. As I reached ground level, I realized the light drizzle became a stronger downpour. I searched the area for the Ghost's body, and noticed it lying on top of a pile of sand. Perfect.

I pulled the small shovel that I carried, and began digging a small pit in the sand. I dragged the Ghost's lifeless body into the pit, and covered it with sand. I seem to be burying bodies in sand left and right. I folded the shovel and placed it back into my rucksack. I took a quick glance around me before taking off into an alley.

~~~End of latest journal entry by Toscha Mijasik~~~

Hope you guys enjoyed the story. I certainly enjoyed writing it. It's fiction, just so you know. I kept the locations as close to the actual in the game. Remember, life is not a fairy tale and there are no happy endings. Let this be...a lesson to the COD fanboys. That their "Ghosts" are no more human than normal people. And that they are made overpowered by their creators.

Remember this too: The body of the Ghost is in the sand. Somewhere.


End file.
